


You See me When I'm Gone (Main Yahaan Hoon)

by JezebelGoldstone



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Baking As Therapy, Bollywood (just go with it), Cuddling, Dreams, Enemies to lovers (also kinda), First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Friends to Lovers (kinda), Getting Together, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, More Fluff, Pie, Romance, Shitty is a good bro, Shitty knows too much, alternate get-together AU, fluff fluff fluff and yet more fluff, little angst, slight AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-06
Updated: 2016-08-06
Packaged: 2018-07-29 15:41:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7690270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JezebelGoldstone/pseuds/JezebelGoldstone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Bitty knows he's dreaming, Jack goes non-verbal for a while, Shitty figures it all out and still doesn't make sense, Holster and Ransom loose the plot and there are a strange number of Bollywood references. Also, pies.</p><p>An alternate getting-together fic.</p><p>(If you haven't read the Check, Please! webcomic you really, really should. It's free on tumblr here: http://omgcheckplease.tumblr.com/post/57705111693)</p>
            </blockquote>





	You See me When I'm Gone (Main Yahaan Hoon)

**Author's Note:**

> I think this might be the fluffiest thing I've ever posted, and if you've read my Johnlock stuff you know that bar was already way high. Enjoy.

* * *

 

Do pal ruka khwaabon ka kaarvaan  
Aur phir chal diye, tum kahaan, hum kahaan  
Do pal ki thi, ye dilon ki daastaan  
Aur phir, chal diye, tum kahaan, hum kahaan  
  
For two moments our dreams crossed  
And then you went your way, and I went mine  
For two moments, this romance lasted  
And then you went your way, and I went mine  
[- _Do Pal_ , Veer-Zaara](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8DXp1lLnHXk)

 

The night of the funeral, Bitty dreams. In his dream he knows he's dreaming, but it all seems real anyway and no matter what he does he can't wake up.  
  
Jack is here. They're in the Haus, in the kitchen, and Bitty's reached that place where he's baking and things are just going _right_. Jack's at the table, just sitting there so calm and lovely in the golden afternoon light, with this smile on his face that's so small and soft he can't be aware it's there.  
  
They're talking, are Jack and Bitty. They talk about hockey and baking and Georgia and Montreal. They talk about Bad Bob and Coach and Mama and Mamen. They talk about first loves, stolen kisses; they talk about drugs and bullies and escapes and chains. They talk about things that hurt and things that don't but should, and it doesn't drag them down. There's a strange kind of comfort in it, like saying the terrible things aloud to each other is enough to soothe the ache away.

Sometimes Bitty drifts near the table, and sometimes Jack leans over and swipes some of the ingredients or the batter, and sometimes they smile at each other without speaking. They get closer and closer until at last they reach for something at the same time and their fingers brush. And then the dream shifts and they're still in the kitchen but Bitty is standing between Jack's knees with his palms on Jack's forearms as Jack smiles up at him in the golden age light and Bitty tries to scream.

Bitty can feel Jack's skin. In his dream Bitty knows he's dreaming, and Jack's skin isn't real but Bitty can feel it anyway, and it's like his mouth has been sewn shut but he struggles and tries his best and in his head he just screams and screams.

At last he wakes, the sound of a gurgled shriek fading into the night. He's in his bed in the Haus, it's pitch-black, but Bitty knows that even when the sun rises the world will remain cold and grey.

Again he falls asleep and doesn't mean to, but it's less like falling asleep and more like being pulled underwater. One moment he's awake in his bed, and the next he's standing on the ice and in his dream Bitty knows he's dreaming. Jack is here again; on the far side of the rink, gliding in graceful figure-eights, dawn light just beginning to filter warm and golden through the windows. Bitty tries to scream.

He wakes, and dreams, and wakes, and dreams, and wakes and dreams again, and Jack is always there, and Bitty can always feel him just like he can feel anything that's real, and in his dream Bitty knows he's dreaming and he just screams and screams.

This time when he wakes up he flings himself out of bed, hoping that if he's not still lying down he won't fall asleep again. It backfires, of course, because the covers are tangled around him so he ends up lying down on the floor, but he fights his way out like a mad thing and his chest is still tight, like he's still trying to scream and can't, and without thinking he lurches away from his bed and out the door and across the hall and into Jack's old room.

Bitty leans back against the door and clutches his chest, worried he might actually be having a heart attack, and blinks around at Jack's old room. All his stuff is still here, it still fucking _smells_ like him, Jesus Christ it was not a good move on Bitty's part to come here.

"Qu'es'?" rumbles something under the messy covers on Jack's old bed.

Bitty just gawps. He can't do anything else. He's frozen.

There's a low groan, and then the covers move, and if Bitty weren't too busy being poleaxed he'd have to smack himself for the way Jack sitting up from beneath the duvet makes him think of the Birth of Venus.

"Qu'est ce?" Jack says, rubbing his eyes. He leans back on his hands and squints towards the door. " _Bittle_?"

Bitty bursts into tears.

It feels like the end of Veer-Zaara, and Bitty is never letting anyone talk him into watching a Bollywood movie again _ever_. Because in his dreams Bitty knows he's dreaming, and he thought this time he was awake for real, but now Bitty knows he's still asleep.

"Jesus, Bittle," Jack sighs, sounding completely exasperated. Bitty cries harder.

"I c-can't wake u-up," Bitty explains. "I k-keep having nightmares, a-and _I can't wake up_."

"You're awake now, Bittle," Jack says. He crosses his arms over his chest as if to say, and now I am too and it's all your fault.

"I am not awake!" Bitty whisper-shrieks. "I _can't_ be awake! I never want to wake up again as long as I live!"

Jack just keeps looking at him. "I thought you _did_ want to wake up?"

"No!" Bitty nearly wails. "No, please no, it'll kill me, I can't I can't I can't---!"

"Goddamn it, Bittle, keep it down!" Jack hisses, jumping out of bed. Unlike Bitty, he manages to do so without faceplanting. Because he's Jack Zimmermann, and also because this is a dream. He darts over to Bitty and claps a hand over his mouth, snapping something about practice in the morning and waking the rest of the team, and in his dream Bitty knows he's dreaming but he can feel Jack's skin the way he can feel anything that's real and inside his head Bitty screams and screams.

"Stop, stop, stop, _stop_!" Jack says, pressing his forearm over Bitty's chest to hold him still. "What's the matter with you? Stop it!"

Bitty gasps and gives in, clutching at Jack and tipping forward to rest his head against Jack's chest. Jack goes completely still and Bitty just stands there, sobs turning to little hitches of breath turning into gentle, steady tears, his face against Jack's shirt and their arms a tangled mess between them.

"Right," Jack says after a little while. "Right. Okay. We need to sleep, all right, Bittle? No, hush, I know you don't want to. But you've got to at least lie down and rest or you'll be no use at practice tomorrow. Do you want to stay here? Will you lie down if I let you stay?"

Dead on his feet and only just realizing it, Bitty can't do aught but nod. His hair scrapes against the cotton of Jack's shirt, and of all the dreams he's had tonight, this one is the worst.

"Maybe I'm in a coma," Bitty says as he and dream-Jack stumble towards Jack's old bed.

"You're not in a coma, Bittle," Jack says.

"I must be," Bitty sighs as he crawls onto the bed. Jack pushes him towards the wall. "Been dreaming for so long, Jack."

"Sure, Bittle," Jack says. Bitty rolls so his back is pressed to the wall and they're facing each other. Jack tugs the covers over himself but not Bitty, but he doesn't hog them and doesn't open his eyes to protest when Bitty shivers and pulls them over himself. It's silent for a few moments before Jack sighs (but softer, this time, less harsh exasperation) and says, "Stop staring at me and go to sleep."

"Can't," Bitty whispers. Won't, he means. This is the worst nightmare he's ever had ever and he never, never wants to wake up. Won't take his eyes off Jack lest he fade into the mist again like freaking Brigadoon.

"I'll still be here in the morning," Jack mumbles.

"Promise?"

Bitty's falling asleep now, whether he wants to or not, but right before his eyes are pulled shut he thinks he might see just the very corner of Jack's mouth tug barely upwards as he says, "Ouais. Promise."

* * *

Bitty wakes slowly, at first only aware of the wall pressing into his back and wondering why on earth he chose to sleep this way. Then an alarm goes off, not his alarm, completely different tone, and the mattress bounces and there's a grunt and the alarm turns off and _what the hell happened last night?_

He takes a moment to steel himself then opens his eyes, and he's greeted by the sight of _Jack Zimmermann_ lying on his back with the covers around his waist and rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. His hair is messy. His shirt's riding up.

"What are you doing in my bed?" Bitty nearly shrieks, only managing at the last second to keep the volume down. One second after that he realizes that instead of keeping the volume down he should have just _not said anything_ , but he's still half asleep and this is just too--- just too.

One of Jack's hands moves enough for him to squint a one-eyed glare. "You're in _my_ bed, Bittle."

"No I'm not," Bitty says automatically.

Jack puts both hands over his face and sighs, then mutters what sound like an awful lot of curse words in Québécois. "Bittle. You had a nightmare last night. You were hysterical and you wouldn't leave. Go back to sleep if you want; I'm going for a run."

"No don't---!" Bitty gasps, snatching Jack's wrist. All at once he remembers yesterday, and the rain, and dreaming every night for months and months that everything was okay again, and. . .

"Bittle! Let me go!" Jack says, trying to pry away Bitty's fingers.

"Sorry," Bitty chokes, letting go of Jack's wrist and tucking both his hands against his own chest. This time Bitty is awake for real and he knows it. "Sorry. Nightmare."

"Christ, Bittle, what did you dream last night?" Jack snaps as he swings his legs over the edge of the bed.

"Your funeral," Bitty says, then claps his hands over his mouth.

Jack twists around to look at him. "What?"

"Nothing!" Bitty squeaks. "Nothing! Just chirping you, man, loosen up. . ."

Jack glares at him some more. It is, after all, the default setting for Jack's face. "You said you dreamed my funeral."

And, well--- yes, okay, Bitty did dream that, and Bitty's awake now so he knows that it _was_ a dream, but he dreamed other things too. He dreamed him and Jack talking and telling secrets, smiling at each other and soothing the ache away, and he wants that so bad it hurts. And, okay, yes, Jack hates his guts, but that's mostly because Jack hates _everyone's_ guts, with the possible exception of Shitty. And it's not till right this moment that Bitty thinks maybe being serious all the time and only caring about _one thing_ (read: hockey) and hating everyone might, possibly, be a little bit lonely.

"I did dream your funeral," Bitty says. It was just a dream, right? If saying this somehow makes things between him and Jack even worse (not that Bitty can really imagine what that would look like, since things are pretty bad as they stand) he can just say that it's something his subconscious came up with that makes no sense and then pretend it never happened. But maybe if Bitty opens up a bit, just a tiny bit, maybe Jack won't be so worried about doing the same.

So Bitty takes a deep breath and centers himself and chooses to be brave. "It was a nice funeral. Very movie-esque. Black umbrellas and rain and everything. Quite tragic."

Jack's glare deepens, but it looks like that might be because he's confused. This boy. "That was your nightmare?"

"No," Bitty says, eyes darting away. He forces himself to look back and says, "That wasn't the bad part. I mean, that was bad, of course it was, that was terrible. But the worst part was I kept--- I kept dreaming about you. I dreamed that I was dreaming that--- God, I don't even know how to say this. Like, I would have a dream about you. And in my dreams I would know I was dreaming, because you were dead but in my dreams you were alive. So I knew you were gone but I kept dreaming you weren't, and we'd just talk and you'd smile and look so happy, and then I'd wake up and you'd be dead again, and." He manages to bite his tongue before he says anything about the ending of Veer and Zaara's epic love story, but only just.

The dream was an infinite loop, but Bitty can't just say the same thing over and over again, and unfortunately he also didn't plan out what to say at the end of all this. It only occurs to him as he's saying it that Jack might be able to hear a lot more than Bitty meant to say.

There's silence for a long, long time, and somewhere in that little speech Bitty lost the battle with himself and is now staring firmly at Jack's pillow.

"So _that_ was your nightmare?" Jack says. When Bitty raises his eyes, it looks like he's trying to smile and failing. His brows are pinched and his lips are tight. It's more of a grimace, really. Oh Lord, is this what happens when Jack tries to chirp someone? No wonder he's got issues. "I died and wouldn't just stay gone, eh?"

"I had a nightmare that you died and never got to be as happy as I dream you could be," Bitty corrects, and then he internally whacks his head against a wall. He calls up his hockey training and explodes into movement, throwing the covers back and scrambling off the bed. "Have a nice run!" he calls over his shoulder as he darts into the hall, closing Jack's door firmly behind himself. He manages to do the whole thing without ever looking to see Jack's reaction.

* * *

Jack is--- different, after that. At first Bitty thinks he fucked up, and there's no evidence to the contrary: Jack stops speaking to him at all off the ice, and more often than not he gives up on talking to anyone else, either, so he just sits on the edge of the group and glares at Bitty. Like, a lot. Hard. Whatever the word is for an intense glare, that's what's going on here. It's a thousand-watt glare. Bitty fears for his life, and he's only half joking.

After two weeks it gets so bad that Bitty works up the nerve to talk to someone about it. He lures Shitty into the kitchen under the pretense of frosting cookies, and when they're safely trapped at the table with bags of pink frosting in their hands Bitty says, "I think I messed up and I don't know what to do about it."

"You kill anyone?" Shitty asks. His tongue pokes out the side of his mouth while he tries to get the swirls on top of his current cookie exactly right.

"No," says Bitty.

"You force anyone into unwanted physical contact?"

" _No_!" says Bitty, horrified.

"Well, those are about the only two things there'd be no help for, so whatever it is, chillax, Bits. It'll be fine."

Bitty sighs--- half exasperation, half relief, all Shitty--- and says, "Gee, thanks. Nothing like a heart attack to soothe a boy's wounded nerves."

"Wounded nerves, Jesus, you really _are_ from the South," Shitty chuckles. "Now! Enough pussyfooting around the issue. Tell me what you think you did."

"I," says Bitty. He's got his speech all worked out, but now that he's about to say it aloud the words won't come. "I," he says again, and realizes that nope, this isn't going to work. So he switches out one speech for another and goes with, "I pissed Jack off, but I didn't mean to, and now he's going to kill me and I don't want to get kicked off the team."

"You won't get kicked off the team. That's for damn certain," Shitty says. "Not for this and not for anything you could do to Jack personally, seriously, I can promise you that."

"Really?" Bitty hates how small his voice sounds.

Shitty laughs. "Sweet summer child. You must know that hockey is the most most important thing in our dear captain's life. As long as you do well on the ice, there's literally nothing that could make him kick you out."

"Good," Bitty says, letting out a breath. "Okay. Good."

Shitty glances sidelong at him. "You want to tell me what it is you did to make you think that was even in the cards?"

"Nope," Bitty says. He really, really doesn't.

Shitty shrugs. "Well, at least you know what it was. No, seriously, shut up, half the time when he gets angry at someone they have no idea what they did. Half the time I think even _Jack_ doesn't know why he's really angry. Which brings me to my next point: Jack isn't mad at you."

"Yes he is," Bitty wails, putting his face in his hands. He can feel sticky frosting getting caught in his hair and smeared on his forehead and he doesn't even _care_. "He won't speak to me and he keeps _glaring_ at me, so hard, Shitty, like you don't even know, and he won't smile at me or anything and he hasn't had a piece of pie in _two weeks_ , Shitty, _two weeks_ , he's _never_ gone that long without before, and I just don't know what to do!"

Shitty claps a hand on his shoulder and he's laughing at him, but it's not cruel. Bitty cracks an eye to glare, which just makes Shitty laugh harder. "Oh man, Bits, you're going to be fine."

"No I'm not! Jack's mad at me!" Bitty says, frustrated and almost angry now.

"He's not, Bits, I'm telling you he's not." Shitty calms down a bit though he's still smiling, and turns to face Bitty fully. "Look, if he were mad at you, I'd tell you, I promise. Okay? This is just Jack being Jack. It takes him a while to process things, and while he does you just gotta give him time to let things percolate through that big gorgeous head of his. Don't rush him. Just be waiting for him when he decides to step back out of his head."

Bitty gives him a side-eye worthy of Princess Kate, but Shitty looks sincere. And while he does joke around a lot, of course, he's never been malicious to anyone, least of all to Bitty. "Okay, fine," Bitty sighs, picking up his frosting sleeve again. "But if I wake up with one his skates stabbed through my face I am coming after _you_ , Shitty Knight, you just see if I don't."

Shitty laughs again. "Fair enough, brah."

That would be the end of it, except right at that moment Bitty glances at the door and sees Jack walk in. He comes up short and (of course) stands there staring at Bitty for a minute. Bitty's got just enough time to be _mortified_ that he can feel himself _blushing_ because he's got freaking _pink frosting_ in his hair and all over his face, and then Jack turns on his heel and walks right back out again.

Bitty's forehead thumps on the table and Shitty looses it, cackling so hard his chair nearly tips over. "Man oh man," he howls, then claps Bitty on the shoulder again. "You are going to be _so fine_ , Bits!"

Bitty just groans.

* * *

Four days later Bitty bakes a pie, but first he texts Shitty to ask him to keep everyone out of the kitchen for the next few hours. He promises to make a double batch of the super-complicated but super-delicious cookies that are a universal favorite tomorrow if the rest of the team just stays the heck away for a little while.

The _reason_ he wants them all out of the kitchen is currently sitting on the counter and swinging her feet while he rolls out the crust. Her name is Felicia, and she's been crying the entire hour they've been in here.

They've sat next to each other in one of the advanced American History courses for this whole semester, and they're something like friends. Today in class she hadn't talked much, just said that she had some family things going on, and Bitty'd said he knows how _that_ goes. He'd also said something about baking always making him feel better, and she'd looked so sad and so desperate that he asked if she wanted to come over and let him teach her how to bake her favorite pie.

It's turned into her watching him bake, and him pretending he can't see how many kleenex she's already gone through and how her eyeliner is completely washed away. It's turned into her spilling the whole story, all the horrible things that are going on and how helpless she feels, and him listening and offering advice where he can and support where he can't. It's turned into him baking not for his own comfort, but to comfort someone else, and the tiny part of him that's not drowning in sadness for her wants to tell his mama about this so she can be proud she taught him in the first place.

When they emerge, hours later, he ushers her gently to the door and is so thankful none of the guys in front of the TV even turn their heads. She's got her hands full of the pie they just baked, but at the door she gives him a tight hug anyway, burying her face in his neck and saying, "Thank you, thank you, thank you so much, Eric."

He just hugs her back and says, "Any time, baby girl, you just come running and we'll whip up the best goshdarn pie you ever ate." She laughs a watery laugh into his shoulder, then squeezes him again and turns away.

When he goes back inside and flops down on the couch, he's so drained he doesn't even realize what's going to happen until Holster says, "Get ya some, _Bits_!"

"That was one next-level cute chick, bro," Ransom says, holding his fist out for a bro-bump.

Bitty just sighs and rubs a hand over his face. "Knock it off, guys. It's not like that."

"Wooing women with pie, man," Holster says dreamily. "Genius. Never even thought of that."

"Yeah, man," says Ransom, "I guess I always figured it was only guys who went for the whole 'romance through food' thing."

"I wouldn't know," Bitty says, suddenly weary with just everything.

He stands up and heads for the stairs and Holster calls, "Aw, come on, man, you know we were just messing with you. Seriously, though, what's up with her? She okay?"

Bitty shrugs. "Not my secret to tell."

It's not until he's got his foot on the bottom step that he looks up and sees Jack standing halfway up the stairs, just staring at him. He must've heard the whole thing. Great. Just perfect.

Bitty walks past him and neither of them say a word.

* * *

If anything, after that the whole thing with Jack gets _worse_. Jack goes almost entirely non-verbal, answering only direct questions, and only with monosyllables when possible. And now it's not just Bitty he's ignoring, it's _everyone_. The entire team can go days at a time without hearing Jack's voice unless he's on the ice.

The staring thing, though, that's still only Bitty.

But the glaring, now, that's---- still glaring, technically. There is still not a happy look on Jack's face whenever he's lasering in on Bitty with his eyes. But now there's something just _slightly_ less edged in hostility than there was before. It's not much, but Bitty'll take it.

"You're _sure_ he's not mad at me?" Bitty says softly to Shitty. It's Haus Movie Night but they're watching Jaws, so with Jack all the way on the other side of the room it's not like he'll be able to hear them over all the noise everyone else is making.

Unless Jack can read lips. That seems like the kind of unexpected thing Jack'd be able to do. His eyes are locked with Bitty's right now; he's not even pretending to look away. He's got to know Bitty's talking about him. Oh fuck.

"Yeah," Shitty says. Bitty glances at him, and he's gazing pensively at some point across the room that might or might not be Jack. "He's still not mad."

" _Really_ ," Bitty drawls with all the Southern sarcasm he's got.

"Yep," Shitty says, taking a drink from his beer and turning back to the movie. "This is way more intense than I thought, but yeah, he's still not mad. Promise. Also," and here he turns to Bitty with a worryingly wide grin, "expect fireworks. Explosions, brah." He mimes something blowing up. " _Boom_."

"What?" Bitty says.

Shitty smiles with yet more teeth. "Big boom, Bits, _big_ boom."

"Sure," Bitty says, giving up and turning back to the movie.

He sneaks glances for the rest of the night, and he'd be willing to bet his favorite pie pan (well, okay, maybe his favorite bread pan) that Jack doesn't look at the TV one single time.

* * *

Bitty makes it three more days before he's just entirely too fed up with the whole thing. So he gets up an hour early and waits in the kitchen to ambush Jack when he comes back from his morning run. Sure enough, after a few minutes he stumbles in, sweaty and rough and looking half asleep.

He's rubbing a towel on the back of his neck, not looking around as he snatches his can of godawful protein powder from the top of the fridge. The look on his face is--- pensive. Like even this early in the morning he's thinking very, very hard.

"Morning, Jack!" Bitty says. Jack jumps about a foot in the air and three feet back, twisting midair to land facing Bitty with wide, startled eyes.

"Oh, God, I'm so sorry, " Bitty says, "I didn't mean to scare you. I just." Jack just stands there, breathing hard, though it doesn't look like he's going to charge forward and murder him, so that's good.

Bitty squares his shoulders. "Look, Jack. I don't know what's going on, but whatever it is, you know you can talk to me, right? If you're mad at me or, or, or anything else at all, you can just talk to me about it, okay?"

He looks at Jack and Jack looks back at him, and they both just stay like that for a really, really long time. At last Jack seems to pick up on the fact that Bitty's not leaving until he gets an answer, so Jack jerks a nod.

"Right. Okay," Bitty says, standing up. "Okay. I'm going back to bed. I'll make pancakes when I get up for real."

He doesn't have to look back to know that Jack is _definitely_ staring at him. This time, of course, Bitty kind of deserves it.

* * *

Two nights later Bitty wakes up to see his door open, Jack hovering awkwardly half in the hall and half in the room, knocking softly enough to wake Bitty without startling him.

"Hmmm?" Bitty says, sitting up before he's even all the way awake and rubbing his eyes. "'Samatter? Time for practice?"

Jack comes in and closes the door and just stands there, next to Bitty's bed, looming over him but not moving. Bitty yawns into his hand and looks around, and no, he's not going crazy, his clock agrees with him that it really is the middle of the night. "What's wrong? Is everyone okay?"

"No. Yes," Jack whispers. "I just. I. Nightmare."

"Oh," Bitty says, really looking at him for the first time. Jack's hunched over and hugging himself like he's been kicked in the stomach (Bitty knows what that feels like, too). He's just standing there, but his eyes, even in the dim light, are pleading. And oh, now Bitty gets it, because of course Jack wouldn't know how to just ask.

"Well, come on then," Bitty says, sliding up against the wall and holding up the covers.

Jack hesitates. "Are you s---"

"Jack Laurent Zimmermann, if you ask me if I'm sure I will end you," Bitty says. Huh. He hadn't known he had it in him.

"Okay," Jack whispers, but as he crawls under the covers Bitty thinks he might actually see the barest hint of a _smile_ in the corner of his mouth. Bitty closes his eyes and clenches his hands into fists and tries to not want so goddamn much.

Jack is very close, of course, and big--- but Bitty's tiny and they're both on their sides, so even though it's only a twin bed they aren't touching. But Bitty can feel the warmth of him rolling through the air between them, can feel the barely-there movement of the covers as they rise and fall with Jack's breath, can hear the tiny scritch-scritch of Jack's eyelashes on the pillow.

"Also," Bitty wakes up enough to say, "you are skipping your morning run tomorrow. You wake me up that early again for no reason and there will be blood. If you brought your damn phone, turn it off." He doesn't open his eyes when he says this--- his poor heart couldn't take the sight of Jack's eyes so close, never mind in the middle of the night and staring up from _Bitty's own pillow_ , Lord--- but he hears Jack say, "Okay," again, very softly, and then a thunk that might be a phone hitting the carpet.

"Good," Bitty breathes as he drifts off for real, "that's good," and he yawns and it doesn't occur to him that he's probably blowing vile sleep-breath at Jack until much, much later.

* * *

Bitty wakes with the wall pressing into his back and remembers _exactly_ why he chose to sleep this way. He listens carefully but doesn't hear anything. He can feel Jack breathing, though, and it's still toasty warm under the covers, so he knows Jack is still here, which means. . .

"You're staring at me, aren't you," Bitty whispers without opening his eyes. His voice is very rough.

Jack stops breathing. Bitty smirks. "I'll take that as a yes, then." He opens his eyes, and yeah, he was right last night that seeing this would be a mistake. Because right in front of his face, barely six inches away across Bitty's pillow, Jack's sleepy blue eyes are peering at him, and Jack's gorgeous black hair is tousled and sticking up, and Jack's skin looks sleep-flushed and soft and warm.

"Why d'you keep staring at me?" Bitty asks. At the last second he stops himself from reaching forward to run his fingers through Jack's hair and tucks his hands under his own chin instead.

Bitty hadn't realized how open Jack's expression was until it closed off. "Sorry," he said, and Bitty's so horrified he doesn't even have brainspace to be amused by Jack's stupid Canadian pronunciation. "Sorry, I'll just. . ."

"No!" Bitty says, and this time doesn't stop himself from reaching out to grab Jack's wrist. He hasn't sat up yet, had barely lifted his head, and now his eyes snap to where Bitty's holding him.

Neither of them move for a long moment. Bitty's remembering last time, in almost this exact position, Jack saying 'let go of me, Bittle!' and trying to pry his too-tight fingers off his wrist. Now he's thinking about it, that was one of the last things Jack said to him before he stopped talking at all.

Then all at once Jack lies back down, relaxing into the mattress and laying his hand flat on the sheets between them. But he doesn't pull his wrist out from between Bitty's fingers, and Bitty relaxes his grip but he can't bring himself to let go.

Bitty takes a breath and tries not to let it shake. Jack's just lying there--- in Bitty's bed, on Bitty's pillow, looking into Bitty's _eyes_ , oh Lord--- and Bitty desperately needs something to say, something stupid and bro-like, _anything_ to remind himself what this is and what it's not.

Of course, what he ends up blurting out is, "D'you remember what your nightmare was about?"

For a moment Jack doesn't even react, but then he takes a deep breath and says, "You said, um. You said that. . ."

"You can talk to me," Bitty fills in quietly.

Jack makes a frustrated little noise, his brows pinching together. "No, I--- I mean, yes, thanks, yes, but--- Last time, when you had that nightmare, you said it was about," and Bitty can literally see Jack bite off the end of that sentence.

'I had a nightmare that you died and never got to be as happy as I dreamed you could be.' That's what Bitty told Jack he dreamed.

"Oh, honey," Bitty breathes before he knows he's going to. He strokes his thumb soothingly over Jack's hand.

"Sometimes I have the same nightmare," Jack says in a rush, so fast the words all kind of bleed together.

"You dream I die and won't just stay gone?" Bitty asks, trying to smile and get a bit of levity into the situation.

Jack shakes his head, his jaw taking on that determined clench Bitty's only seen before in third period, and then he says in a rush, "But it's not. Not always a dream. When I'm asleep, I mean. I get--- I get so worried that I'm going to fuck up, that I _am_ a fuckup, that I'm never going to, that I'm never going to get to just be _happy_. . ." and oh, how Bitty's heart aches for this boy.

He thinks that's all of it, and without knowing what else to do he starts stroking Jack's hair off his forehead the way his mama used to do when he was sick, but to his surprise Jack just barrels right on ahead. "And I get so caught up in my own head agonizing over what'll make me happy and what won't and how unlikely I am to be able to, to _achieve_ it, and I've never been able to figure it out. But, I, Bits," and it's the first time Jack has _ever_ called Bitty anything other than his full surname, Bitty knows, Bitty _knows_ , because he's been counting.

"I don't care anymore," Jack says, and somehow he's moved just a little closer, just an inch or two nearer on the pillow than he was before, and Bitty's not stroking his hair anymore but his hand is still on the side of Jack's face. "If I haven't been happy before there's no way I'd figure it out now, right? But I, Bits, sometimes. . . sometimes when you think no one's looking, you just look so _sad_."

 _That_ is a kick to the gut.

"What?" Bitty squeaks.

"You seem so happy all the time," Jack whispers, "but you aren't always. I know you're not. Tell me why, Bits? I know I screw up everything I touch, except for hockey sometimes, but I swear I'll do whatever it takes to---"

Bitty rolls forward and kisses him.

It's poorly-aimed, what with Jack lying down still and Bitty leaning over him a bit, but some part of his lips ends up on Jack's lips, on _Jack's lips_ , and just.

Jack is perfectly still for a moment, and then he inhales deep through his nose and moves, and for one second Bitty is sure he just ruined _everything_ , but then Jack's at a better angle and he manages to squirm onto his back and one of his big hands cups warm around the side of Bitty's face and tilts his head and then they're _kissing_ and it's _even better than before_ and oooohhhhhhhh. For a long while after that there's just lips and skin and wandering hands and soft sheets and golden sunshine and it's _perfect_.

Bitty rolls on top of Jack, and it's tremulous and wonderful, and Jack pulls away and looks up at him with his eyes so, so blue and says, "Can we." And then he doesn't say anything else, but now Bitty knows what's going on inside Jack's head (or what's going on in there some of the time, at least) so now he gets what Jack's saying. So they squirm around and manage to not whack the wall or fall off the bed while they switch so Bitty's on his back and Jack is a glorious weight atop him.

 _Jack_ is _between Bitty's thighs_. At least, he is until Bitty gently pushes him off, and Jack goes along with the movement just a bit too much and he looks fucking _devastated_ , and Bitty'd do anything to keep that look off Jack's face, anything, no matter how unintentionally he put it there. So Bitty cracks himself just a little further open; leans up to press his lips against Jack's and whispers into his mouth, "Don't leave me."

Jack looks at him, wide-eyed and wondrous, and Bitty can't take it and starts saying, "Off, off, take these _off_ ," tugging at Jack's shirt and boxers, and Jack smiles at him while they both scramble out of their clothes locker-room fast, and then. . .

. . . And then Jack's back between Bitty's thighs, their arms around each other, and they kiss and kiss and _kiss_ , and Jack is sleek and sleep-soft-warm and Jack is _Jack_ , and they come at almost the same moment with an outpouring of blind energy that feels like a dying star.

Eventually they're lying there, Bitty's chin on the back of his hand on Jack's chest, his other hand tracing patterns on Jack's pecs or through his hair or over his face, and Jack just smiles and smiles and smiles at him.

"I am so, so happy right now," Bitty says. Jack smiles even wider (which should be impossible, but there it is) and pushes his fingers deeper into Bitty's hair. "I've been wanting to do this for so long, Jack, you don't even know."

"Do what?" Jack asks. "Sex?"

"No," Bitty laughs. Then, "Well, yes, I mean of course yes, but, just. . . you know. This. Right now. With you."

Jack chuckles. "You've wanted to do afterglow?"

Bitty ducks his face, laughing, then leans up and kisses Jack ( _holy shit_ ) before settling back in his previous position. "Not just that. I. . . okay, so you have to promise not to laugh."

One of Jack's eyebrows rises, and Bitty can't help but trace it with his thumb. "Honestly," Jack says, "I'm not sure I could stop laughing right now if I tried. But I promise not to chirp. Too much, anyway."

They both laugh, and of course after that they have to kiss, but then they settle comfortably again and Bitty watches his hand card through Jack's hair instead of watching his face when he says all this.

"When I had that dream--- I've mentioned I had a dream about you, right? Okay, so, in this dream. You remember I said that in this dream you were happy? It wasn't just that," but then he doesn't really know how to finish.

"Eric Richard Bittle," Jack says in what he probably thinks is Captain Voice, even though it's not because that voice doesn't work at all when Jack's smiling so broadly. "Did you have a _sex dream_ about me?"

"No!" Then he remembers and says sheepishly, "Well, okay, there was no sex in the dream we're _talking_ about. . ."

"Oh, you are _going_ to tell me about the sex dreams, Bitty," Jack says with a heated grin, and after that kissing becomes pretty necessary again, so they get down to that real quick.

But this is important even if it's embarrassing, so when their kisses become slightly less frantic and more languid Bitty whispers against Jack's lips, "I dreamed that we talked."

"Hmmm?" Jack says, then pulls back to give Bitty his full attention once he figures out Bitty is actually trying to say something here.

"It's just," Bitty says, looking down and drawing figure-eights on Jack's chest. "I dreamed that you and I--- talked. About everything. You know? Like every terrible thing that we'd ever done or that had ever happened to us. And I told you all this absolutely shitty stuff, and you just--- I don't know, it was like after I told you about it, it didn't matter so much to me anymore? Like we just--- we were together and it was so nice, Jack, and we were so happy, we _both_ were, we made each other so happy, and I just. . . I wanted that so bad. I mean, I'd wanted you since ever, of course, I've had a major crush on you since like the second practice, but this was. . . this made me want something else."

Jack doesn't say anything for a long time. Jack doesn't say anything for so long Bitty's almost worried he fell asleep. But his breathing hasn't changed, which Bitty knows for certain because he's been watching Jack's chest very, very carefully this whole time.

At last, though, Jack takes Bitty's chin in his fingers and tips his face so their eyes meet, and holy shit, Jack looks like he might be a bit damp-eyed, what the fuck, but he doesn't look away and he doesn't try to hide. He takes a shaky breath and says, "All of my agony fades away when you hold me."

And, yeah, okay, Bitty's man enough to admit he's kind of crying too, on a dinky little bed in a ramshackle frat house his freshman year of college with Senor Bun probably under the pillow somewhere, but who the fuck even cares.

"Jack," he says, and that's all he has to say, and then they're kissing again, but like _really_ kissing, Lord help him, and that's all he can say for a while.

All at once a thought pops up in Bitty's head and then he's laughing so hard they can't keep kissing anymore.

"What?" Jack asks, gently cuffing Bitty upside the head. "What's so funny?"

"Oh my God," Bitty gasps, hardly able to catch his breath he's laughing so hard, "did you just quote _Within Temptation_ at me?"

"What?" Jack says, but he sounds a bit strangled now.

"You did!" Bitty crows, curling his arms around his stomach, aching he's laughing so hard. "You so totally did! All of my agony fades away when you hold me in your embrace! Don't tear me down!"

"I'm not good with words!" Jack says, dislodging Bitty so he can sit up and whack him with the pillow. "I couldn't think of anything else! I had to say _something_!"

"I cannot _believe_ that we have a song in common, and that it's that song," Bitty manages to get out.

"Figures," Jack grumbles.

Bitty just laughs harder, and Jack collapses across him, trying to mock-wrestle him into a headlock and saying, "Shut up, shut up, shut up!" But he's started laughing, too, and really the wrestling wasn't very effective in the first place.

After a little while Bitty's just giggling, lazy and trapped beneath Jack's wonderful weight, still snickering and ineffectually pushing at Jack's shoulders, and then Jack ducks his head and mumbles, "Well, does it make it better if I say I meant it? Completely?"

"Yeah," Bitty says through a giggle-aftershock, "yeah, I guess it does."

"Good, then," Jack says, and flops down so now he's the one with his head resting on Bitty's chest.

Bitty hums and closes his eyes, rubbing Jack's shoulders, and tips his head back and just basks. A minute later, though, he has an idea, so he tugs on Jack's hair until he raises his head so they can see each other. Bitty frames Jack's face in his palms and says, "Kaisi sarhadein, kaisi majbooriyan: main yahaan hoon, yahaan hoon, yahaan hoon."

He absolutely _murders_ it, of course, but Jack only tips his head to the side in inquiry so Bitty hesitantly translates (well, recites the subtitles, anyway), "Whatever impediments you meet, I'm here, I'm here, I'm here."

Jack smiles and it's frightening, how soft that smile is, and he puts one kiss on Bitty's lips before saying, "What on earth language was that supposed to be?"

Bitty laughs a little and says, "Well, I was _trying_ to say it in Hindi, but I'm sure anyone from the South Asian continent would kill me. . ."

"Hindi?" Jack says. "Where'd you pick up any Hindi?"

"It's, um," Bitty can feel his face turning bright red, but he says it anyway. "Um. It's from Veer-Zaara?"

Jack's face scrunches in confusion. All these _expressions_ Bitty's been getting to see this morning; it's a miracle. And he doesn't even mean that sarcastically. "That Bollywood movie Holster made us all watch last month? How do you _remember_ that?"

"I might, um, I might have watched it _significantly_ more than just the once. . ."

"Oh my God," Jack says, laughing into his neck, "that was the most dramatic, sappiest movie I have ever seen. We need to watch it together."

"Definitely," Bitty says against his mouth, leaving out the part where he's also got the entire soundtrack on his iPod.

* * *

By some miracle, it turns out that there's no practice scheduled for today, and neither Jack nor Bitty have any classes. They wander downstairs after noon, famished from skipping breakfast and lunch in favor of doing something else (read: each other) once or twice. Or, maybe, y'know, three times. Four. Whatever; who's counting?

Somewhere in all that they'd talked a bit more about practical things, and they'd agreed that for now they're going to keep it under wraps and not tell anyone except Shitty. And even then, they're only telling him because he'll figure it out anyway so they need to tell him right away to keep his mouth shut.

Of course, they never agreed _how_ they would tell Shitty, so when they tumble downstairs and find him sitting alone in the kitchen, Bitty goes right over to him and takes him by the shoulders and looks him full in the face and says, "Shitty. _Shitty_. Not a big boom. Not fireworks." Because yeah, he figured out what Shitty had been talking about somewhere between Rounds Two and Three.

Bitty leans forward and keeps his face as straight and innocent as he can, his eyes wide, and shakes Shitty a bit by the shoulders, and says emphatically, " _SUPERNOVA_."

Shitty laughs and jumps up and hugs them both, and Jack looks confused but he's still smiling a little--- Jack Zimmermann, just standing there in his tee-shirt and boxers, smiling at nothing in particular, like it's becoming the default expression for his face or something--- and Bitty is so utterly besotted with this boy it's breathtaking.

Just a few minutes later Shitty leaves with a gallant bow, saying he'll give them a bit more 'alone-time' even though they say he can stay.

"What? And keep Bittle and his boyfriend from having a moment in the most sacred room in the Haus? I think not, my friends, I think fucking not." And then he literally bows and sweeps out of the room.

Jack sits on the counter while Bitty makes waffles and chocolate sauce, and they talk. They talk about everything and nothing, as Bitty's mama says. They talk about things they've done and people they've known, things they've wanted but couldn't have and plans they've made. As they talk they smile, and Jack's eyes are impossibly blue and his face is impossibly soft, and every time Bitty walks past him they kiss, and he never even dreamed this much happiness was possible. For either of them.

 

 

 

 


End file.
